The Atlesian Way
by mantisbelle
Summary: The societal norms of the kingdom which you call home dictate that emotions are best felt but never shown. Glynda Goodwitch makes that next to impossible for you. Sometimes, you let it show, but only for her. Only to her.


The first time you meet Glynda Goodwitch, you are young, barely grown into your body and you are _awkward_. You're the prize of Atlas Academy. She isn't the best that Beacon has to offer, but she's damn close to it. You're both fourth years at your respective academies.

Atlas is hosting the Vytal Festival for the first time after the Great War. The kingdom is putting on the best show possible, and all of the other kingdoms have sent their best and brightest to represent them in the arena.

As for you, you are in your final year of training at the academy. You're expected to do great things, once you graduate you're sure you're going to the Atlesian Military. You've been assured that you're a perfect fit for the Specialist Corps. You don't know what will come after that, but you have time. You're nothing more than a student, after all.

A good student, but a student nonetheless.

Foreign students being at your school isn't the worst thing that could have ever happened. If anything, it means that your classes get a little bit easier and you end up with more free time to dedicate to training. With the tournament around the corner and the knowledge that you're inevitably going to end up fighting the visiting students, you let yourself sink out of visibility in combat classes and spars. Your training can be done behind closed doors instead.

After all, what kind of fighter shows their hand to the enemy when they didn't have a good reason to do so?

If anything, you're just doing the smart thing.

She's got the same idea. You end up sitting side by side with her and her team in one of your classes on Dust. It's supposedly high-level course material, but for you and other Atlesians, it's normal. Remedial, even. You're from the kingdom that perfected Dust use, after all. Education in Dust use is something that might as well have started the second someone in Atlas was born.

You know how to use it, you just prefer not to. It's simply a matter of personal preference.

You first noticed Glynda Goodwitch out of the corner of your eye. You'd seen her bun and the light hair and you'd thought that you'd been turning to speak to an old friend. You'd thought that you'd be getting Willow Schnee's attention to ask her whether she was interested in taking over one of the training rooms with you later.

But it wasn't Willow Schnee, who you've been interested in since the first stirring of hormones years ago. This wasn't the girl that you served before you'd fought your way into Atlas Academy with tooth and nail.

Instead, it was a girl in a Beacon School Uniform named Glynda Goodwitch.

And she was _beautiful_.

When she didn't so much as give you the time of day, it just left you intrigued. The smart thing would have been to keep your distance. You introduce yourself instead- after all, that's the purpose of these tournaments, to make _friends._

Of course, that's simplifying things, but you don't care. You've been lectured on the true purpose of the Vytal Festival plenty of times.

The actual purpose is to maintain bonds between the four kingdoms and show off the best of the best in future hunters. Outside of the Specialist Corps, hunters had no loyalties to specific kingdoms, only to humanity. The tournament almost left you feeling like livestock before prospective buyers.

She's in the same position that you are, and you're sure that you'll see her again.

* * *

Your next run in with Glynda Goodwitch is at the Vytal Tournament qualifiers. You don't really _want_ to be there, but you also recognize that you're there for a reason. It's a formality that every participant in the tournament must go through.

Whether or not they were considered shoo-ins for the tournament on their very first day at the academy like you were doesn't matter.

You watch everyone that goes through the qualifiers as closely as you possibly can. You watch for semblances, for weapons, for fighting styles that will end up being a pain should your team end up against them.

Glynda Goodwitch is somehow the most deadly person that you've ever seen, despite the fact that she's carrying herself in a way that's almost harmless. The lack of an impressive weapon is a surprise. Her semblance is an even bigger one.

Glynda's style is as deadly as it is effortless.

You watch her, mind turning over possibility after possibility as you try to find the best ways for you to approach her in a fight. Whether or not you'll end up in the arena with her is a question in itself.

It doesn't matter though. You want to be prepared for any circumstance that may present itself.

She seems to know that you're studying her though, based on the glare that she shoots her spectators, which seemed to settle on you.

She sees what you're capable of soon enough.

You know that it's probably not nearly as flashy as what she does.

But style doesn't matter. Your main concern is in efficiency.

You are a master of efficiency.

* * *

It's always been customary that students go on missions and show their worth as proper huntsmen in the weeks leading up to the Vytal Festival. If you were in one of the younger years, you would have been sent out with your normal team as their leader. Team IRWN, strong as ever. You're proud of them.

But this is _different_. You're a fourth year, and so the expectations change. Instead of just being a hunter in training, you're treated more like a fully fledged one. Fourth years are split off from their own teams and matched with fourth years from other academies into temporary four man teams. One from each kingdom, a reminder that you will have no loyalty once you have graduated.

You end up on Team INGT, named as their leader.

Glynda's on the same team as you, and she seems completely content to argue against you the entire time if she feels the need. However, you're a leader, a born leader a lot of people say. And unlike these others, you're cut from a military cloth and you know it.

If things went poorly, you weren't afraid to go ahead with Atlesian style leadership, harsh as it may be.

The team doesn't slide in together anywhere near as well as they could have. That's fine though, it's expected that you won't work together so well. That's the point- beyond the academies, nobody could rely on the same people the entire way through.

Glynda's a good teammate though. She grew up in Vale, you learn. She's on a team ORNG at Beacon Academy, with some others that you haven't met yet. She speaks of her teammates in high regard, as she should. Glynda enjoys a glass of red wine after missions and has a rather distinct distaste for messes.

You can relate to her, and that's a surprise. Not an unwelcome one.

When you set up a camp that night up in the worst of the frozen stretches of Northern Solitas, you keep that in mind. It's no surprise that you're the one that takes it the best being up there. You're used to the cold. For some it's easier than others, but you have to worry about your teammates anyways.

A good way to keep things going and to keep from freezing is to just walk. Of course, aura offers some protection against the cold. That said, aura alone isn't enough. It never has been enough to protect against a cold that works down into the bones and kills you from the inside out, and it never will be. So in the end, you find yourself getting up frequently for patrols with your four teammates. It's a duty that gets passed off from person to person.

The fact that it's not snowing doesn't matter. It's just too cold. The ground is frozen and uncomfortable. You rely on packages of fire dust to keep your extremities from freezing and are careful to pass those off to your teammates.

You end up on patrol with Glynda when it's early in the morning. The sun still won't rise for several hours.

There's something special about Solitas that people don't realize until they're there. People don't realize that it's a beautiful place to be in, or that come night the skies are so clear you can't miss a single star. They don't know that sometime the sky will paint itself a hundred different colors, each one unique and each one special.

People don't realize that your home is more than just a frozen wasteland.

Glynda's never seen it before. That's not something that surprises you at all. You try to find high ground, and you help her up onto an outcropping of rock so that she can see the sky as clearly as she wants. She takes a seat there, and you lean against a nearby tree, watching the sky yourself.

The lights seem to paint her yellow hair a hundred other colors.

After that, you can't think of those lights as being the most beautiful thing against that night sky.

That's a title reserved solely for Glynda.

As is the Atlesian way, you don't let her know. You push the emotion down and hope that it never shows too strongly.

* * *

You end up going on three missions with Glynda. On the first, you realize that there's something there. It strays along the edges of attraction and affection, and you decide very early on that it's best kept ignored. After all, you may be young but you have your interests and at least feel secure in them on some level. Nobody judges you for them, aside from Willow Schnee maybe, but that's to be expected.

She judges you for _everything._

You're the servant boy that helped her family all your life. You were raised in the Schnee Manor as a servant, and when you were old enough you were sent out to chop their wood. You only got out of that position by your own ingenuity. But still, the old dynamic remained.

What existed between the two of you had remained that of a servant and a mistress on some level, just things had changed. There was mutual respect there now. You were more like equals than ever before. Your interest in Willow Schnee hadn't yet died, but Glynda was a flame that roared through you and _demanded_ your interest.

Willow would judge you for your new interests.

In fact, you suspected jabs over your supposed type with Glynda put into consideration.

It's for the best that Glynda doesn't find out about your long-held crush on Willow Schnee.

But it begins to die.

Glynda begins to fill your thoughts instead, and then your heart soon after. Her flame consumes your entire whole.

Of course, most people wouldn't realize that they had feelings for someone immediately following getting their ass kicked, but you aren't most people. Glynda isn't most people. She took you down without even breaking a sweat.

It's a first, to say the least. Nobody's been able to throw you around like that before. It only serves to leave you intrigued.

The two of you take to sparring when you get the chance. Every time, you put new rules into place, and there's a running tally on who is winning in your little matches. One night it'll be you, but the next it'll change once the stakes have been changed. There's an evenness about it that makes compromising your position for the tournament almost worth it.

But you go on your missions with her when you need to. Those missions have a playful aspect about them, despite the fact that it's the temporary Team INGT going out into the field to take out nests of grimm that had appeared. Between the two of you, you're able to carry the mission on your own.

The second job is hard on you both. There's no chance for rest. There's no chance for anyone to relax, but you do your best to keep yourself from getting too stressed out. The game that you and Glynda is simple. Nothing more than a body count.

Every night you're in the field with her, the tallies change. Night one, she's ahead. Night two, that honor goes to you. The third night, you end up tied.

The competition makes things better. It makes the mission _bearable._

Team INGT returns to Atlas Academy with victory to their names.

This time when you and Glynda part, you're actually sad to see her go.

* * *

The last mission that the two of you share before the tournament is the hardest one. You're both exhausted, both feeling like you're being pushed to a brink that neither of you had wanted to ever had to cross. This mission is the first one that you've had to go through in a very long time that's shaping up to be a _failure._

It had sounded simple on the outset when you'd accepted the mission. Search and destroy, which was more than easy enough to handle, with a shred of escorting on top of that to keep things interesting.

The team hadn't been prepared for an ambush, and the dignitary that you're travelling with was even less so prepared. You're all scared and hurt, but you don't let it get under your skin too badly because to do so would be dangerous. You don't let your teammates know that you're pretty sure that you might have ruined the joint in your right knee.

You don't let them know that you've haven't been able to sleep as the pressure of the mission and the impending failure begins to loom over you.

You don't let them know that you don't trust any of them as far as you could throw them.

That would only serve to compromise the mission further, and to you that is simply a stake which is unacceptable. You make sure that the others knew that too.

All that matters is that you get the job done, and you get it done right. That's all that you want. That's all that you need.

Feelings don't matter. Stress doesn't matter. You're Atlesian- steadfastness is something to be held as a point of pride. Emotions are dangerous, and so you hide them. It's the Atlesian way.

It was the third day when Glynda finally realized that something was wrong. It was long after you'd all set up your camp and arranged things so that there was a secure spot for someone to keep watch. You haven't been sleeping more than an hour or two every night anyways, so you stay up to keep watch.

Your gun is too heavy in your hands as you sit there, watching, waiting, and listening.

Her voice jolts you into awareness. You look back over your shoulder to see her there.

She sits next to you, pressing in close for some reason that you can't quite comprehend. You don't let her know that it's affecting you, because that's the Atlesian way. You hide the fact that your heart feels like it's getting stronger and more painful in your chest. You ignore the way that when she touches your skin it almost feels like it burns in the most pleasant way possible.

You don't let her know that her voice is a balm to your soul at a time when you need it most.

She convinces you to rest. You don't leave your post though, because that's what feels best and what feels the safest. When you sleep, it's with your head in Glynda's lap. The thing that finally soothes you enough to rest is the feeling of her hands brushing through your hair, and the gentle scrape of her nails against your scalp.

Silently, you pray to have this luxury again.

* * *

Your first kiss is a tired, scared thing. It's barely a brush of the lips, but you don't care. She's soft, with those green eyes of hers that always pull you in and leave you feeling like you're drowning.

You drown.

She pushes you away, because it's better for you to learn to swim than to cling to her for dear life and drag you both down.

You forget that you're standing in the middle of a forest until she's walking away, moonlight reflecting on golden hair and soft words on her lips.

The mission has to come to an end soon enough. You return to Atlas, bruised and exhausted, but the press of Glynda's lips against yours is something you cannot forget. It burns through your soul.

Team INGT separates after that mission.

You and Glynda vowed to keep in touch, no matter what.

You'll do anything to keep that promise.

* * *

You meet Glynda in the final round of the Vytal Festival tournament.

You beat her, but only by the skin of your teeth.

She rewards you with a kiss, followed by a slap for beating her.

You don't care.

You kiss again. This time, she doesn't protest against your touch.

* * *

You look good together.

That's what people keep telling you, at least. Together, you two are the absolute paragon for what hunters should look like. You're both strong, experienced on the battlefield, you both know your ways in and out of danger as though it's instinct. That's not what matters though- you look good together, and you both know why people keep pointing it out.

Social climbers aren't looked on well in Atlas. Why would they look on you kindly, after all? You're the son of the Schnee Family woodcutter and a kitchen maid- you have no place at a high-society gala.

Neither does Glynda, though she comes from what is considered a more "acceptable" background, the daughter of a career Huntsman and one of the earliest members of the specialist corps. It's your position as a Specialist that's bought your entry to this gala- once again, you're being trotted like livestock for a show. Glynda is on your arm as a plus one.

You're bitter. You don't let it show, but you are _bitter._

You don't belong here. You're being put on display for prospective buyers, all that matters to these people is your _rank_ and _background._ You can only take so many comments on how you've done so well despite your _upbringing._ You can only hear it mentioned so many more times.

It's a constant reminder that you don't belong.

You feel like you're going to snap and punch someone by the end of the night, and _oh_ how Willow's fiance feels like a great target, with his pointed comments regarding your _upbringing._

He's a hypocrite. He's marrying for a name- you've worked from the day you were born to get where you are. How _dare_ he judge you.

The only thing that seems to be able to quiet that angry buzz in the back of your head is the next glass of champagne.

But Glynda stays close to you for that night, even though she has better things that she could be doing. She could be training, or sampling the best coffee around the kingdom, or doing just about anything else, but she chose to come here with you. It's one of the few times that you don't doubt that there's emotional attachment between the two of you, as taboo as that can feel.

She'll sit with you during dinner and massage circles into the back of your right hand. She'll listen as you vent when you're away from the crowds and prying eyes. Glynda offers you a comfort that didn't seem to really exist there, amongst high society.

You let her take you to the dance floor, and you fall in together easily enough. Having her there grounds you, it gives you something to hold onto as the hustle and bustle of the night exhausts you further and further until you're ready to drop.

This much social interaction isn't the norm for you. You're not meant for this life, regardless of what people say.

You and Glynda leave late at night, both hungering for something more than the tiny portions that you'd been given at the banquet. You end up stopping at a tiny shop that sells stuffed croissants for dinner and picking up a small boxful to go before returning home to the night to rest.

You're sure to kiss Glynda before she strips out of her gown, because to not do so would be an absolute crime.

You don't want to be a criminal, not when it comes to her.

She returns the kiss with fervor and pulls you in by your tie before you two tumble into bed for the night.

You've never loved her more, you think as she sleeps beside you, covered by nothing more than your blanket.

* * *

Glynda kisses you goodbye when you head off to a mission alone. It's supposed to be long mission, a difficult one. You're capable of handling it.

You laugh as you pull away and board the ship that's supposed to bring you out to your objective.

You promise that you'll be home in one piece soon enough.

* * *

You break your promise.

* * *

You wake up in a hospital room, delirious and unable to make heads or tails of just about anything that's going on around you. Your entire body aches, and you can't quite remember just what happened.

This is the weakest that you've ever felt, and when you move to get up, you can't quite get there. It's like your body has been blocked somehow, and when you try to even shift where you're resting, the pain shoots through you so violently that you feel like you might vomit.

The persistent _beep beep beep_ of the heart monitor speeds, and it feels almost impossible to breathe.

Whatever had happened, it was something terrible, and you don't think that you want to know what it was.

The sound of the monitor is the thing that wakes Glynda from her sleep. She's curled up in a too-small chair beside your hospital bed. Her hair, usually so beautiful and organized has fallen out of the bun that she would normally wear. Her eyes had dark circles underneath them, and there's a certain exhaustion in her body that seems to fill her and refuse to let her go.

She looks over at you, and the moment that she realizes that you're awake she's there at your side. You don't say anything to her, mostly because you can't think of anything else that you can say to her. You're in too much pain, and your entire existence feels like it's at stake, despite the fact that you're there in a hospital room.

For a long time, all you do is lie there and stare at a spot on the wall because there's nothing that you want to say. Once in awhile, Glynda will whisper to you and try to garner a response, but you can't bring yourself to do so.

You've seen enough to know that you've lost most of your body.

You listened in on the doctors as they spoke just outside of your room. You've heard enough. You were brought in needing emergency care, with an arm and a leg blasted off, your right lung had needed replacement, and to make everything work they'd needed to put you through hours upon hours of invasive surgeries.

Between the prosthetics and the damage, you can't help but wonder how much of you is left that's human.

Glynda's presence does little to reassure you. It's not enough, it never will be. You've been broken in ways that you're sure will never quite be mended.

She says goodbye with a kiss that's little more than a brush of her lips against his your right cheek. It offers no comfort.

After she leaves, you ask not to have her allowed in again.

You can't deal with her right now.

You doubt Glynda will want you again. Not like this. She deserves someone that hasn't been broken like you have.

* * *

The mission clings to you, always there and always insistent. It clings to your dreams and keeps you from sleeping .You can't close your eyes without seeing a set of jaws and wishing that you hadn't lived to survive.

As is the Atlesian way, you don't let that pain show.

Nobody needs to know how broken you really are.

You don't let Glynda know. You don't let anyone know.

* * *

Glynda moves back to Vale. She takes a job at Beacon Academy.

You're happy for her.

* * *

You heal, but only so much. There are things about you that are forever going to be broken. There's a level of guilt that people hold towards you, and you find that impossible to ignore. Your old commanding officer offers you a position at the academy, presumably because you can't get yourself killed from behind a desk.

You deny the position at first, but are quickly informed that the option will remain open should you want it. You've come too far to accept this.

So instead of staying put in Atlas and in hospital rooms, you put yourself to work. You find ways to get strong again, to help your muscles recover from atrophy, to fight again.

Your axe is gone. That's fine. You have to relearn how to fight like you're a student freshly entered into a combat school. You can't do close battle like you used to, though it is possible. It's just better to keep a distance.

Your aim improves on your left hand. On your right, it's a process of training yourself into being as steady as you used to be. In training you learn things, though. You learn that your right side is strong- impossibly so.

Eventually you find a proper balance between how strong you can be and how strong you want to be. When a grimm gets too close it still feels like your heart stops. You learn to power through it.

The mind doesn't heal as easily as the body. Prosthetics can't fix that. Prosthetics don't really fix anything other than let you do things again.

* * *

The next time you see Glynda, it's on a trip outside of Vale- your first mission since the one that had torn you apart so easily. You land in the city because you'd rather travel out on your own and you can do some of your own research rather than just following the dossier.

The two of you run into each other at a Dust shop. She stares at you like she's seen a ghost, but you don't acknowledge her. It's better off that way, at least for now. She deserves better than you, after all. She deserves someone that's entirely human instead of whatever it is you are.

You leave the shop without a word and go off on your own way. You have work to do, and there's no room for distractions.

You don't know who it hurts more.

You still love her.

That night, you dream of kissing her, and of her whispering words to you that make you feel okay with everything put into consideration.

It won't happen.

You don't let it show, as is the Atlesian way.

* * *

Glynda moves on. You don't. It's fine- she deserves better than you anyways, you tell yourself. It doesn't make it hurt any less.

She's taken a position at Beacon Academy teaching aura and Dust techniques, and you're happy for her. She seems happy there, though you aren't sure that teaching is necessarily for her. There's something about it that feels wrong.

You're probably wrong about it.

This is Glynda you're thinking about- she can do anything that she puts her mind to, in both the literal and the metaphorical sense. It's better that you aren't there to hold her back, and besides, distance is a long-standing issue that won't go away.

She has her career in another kingdom. You're a specialist- you're either spending time in your home kingdom or being sent off to parts of the world that you don't even want to think about, much less talk about.

There would be no stability between the two of you if you wanted to pursue a relationship again.

As painful as it is to think about, you can't think of any other way to confront it. You have your life, she had hers. Should they one day intersect, then you'll welcome her back into your life with open arms.

But you doubt that'll happen. Your rejection of her since the injuries has been both too regular and too cold. She has no reason to let you back in.

If she didn't, you couldn't blame her.

In a way, you've purchased this treatment.

* * *

You're a specialist.

You're offered a promotion.

You take it.

You're offered another promotion.

You take it.

You become General James Ironwood, Headmaster of Atlas Academy. The position earns you two seats on the Atlesian council.

Deep down, you know that Glynda has heard about your rise to power. You wonder if she misses you or is proud of you. You wonder if she bears any bitterness in her heart.

If she does, it's probably lesser than the bitterness that the men that judged you for your background all those years ago.

The son of a woodcutter was never meant to become the most powerful man in an entire kingdom.

* * *

Ozpin asks you what your favorite fairy tale is.

You aren't ready for this conversation.

* * *

The world is going to hell, and something needs to be done. You decide to fly down from your home in Atlas all the way to Vale. You'll be able to meet with Ozpin in person and work on saving the world, among other things. Vale needs your technology, Vale needs your army.

You can go down save the people of Vale from complacency and a threat they aren't even aware of.

There's something about it that's next to impossible for you to get past though. It's that knowledge that you're going to end up close to Glynda for the first time in nearly a decade. You've split off so far from each other after so many years.

Mostly, you're afraid of what it's going to be like when you see her.

You've spent close to 17 years being the topic of Atlesian gossip and speculation. You're an _eligible bachelor_ , you're an unmarried man in several positions of power that could have had anyone that you wanted, if you wanted.

People call you robotic. They call you heartless, they call you so many things but it's all because they don't know you. They've never known you.

They don't know that you've pushed people away for the same reasons that they make those jabs at your expense. People don't know that calling you robotic is closer to the truth, they don't know that you've carried a flame for a woman that lived a kingdom away for most of your life.

That wasn't to say that there wasn't a short-lived rumor regarding yourself and Willow Schnee, but it had been quickly quashed.

Despite it all, you've earned the respect of your countrymen.

Because of the years, the knowledge that you have no idea what to be ready for when you see Glynda is something that refuses to relent. On the flight down, you spend the time when you aren't at work alone because that's the only way that you can relax.

Of course, when you finally land, get settled in, and you head up to Ozpin's tower, it takes everything in you not to let your nervousness show. You have ways of killing it before it gets to be out of hand, but you aren't quite ready. The knowledge that you'd come in and be immediately offered a mug of coffee meant that it was easy for you to give it a shot of whiskey if you feel the need.

You regret to admit it's something you learned from Qrow Branwen of all people.

Glynda's beauty tears through you like a gunshot. She's still as beautiful as you remember, and the years have not ruined that. Her hair is still that same light golden color, unaltered by age. Eyes, still forest green and vibrant, but now hidden back behind glasses.

This is still the woman that you remember first falling in love with all of those years ago. You never stopped loving her, for better or for worse.

You try to joke with her, you try so hard to gain acceptance back into her world. It doesn't come easily. In fact, she doesn't accept your presence there at all. The first reaction to you being there is that she'll be outside while you meet with Ozpin.

Nothing could feel more painful, or more bitter.

As is the Atlesian way, you don't let the hurt show.

* * *

There's a ball in the weeks leading up to the Vytal Festival. Your students are going to be attending, including Penny Polendina. While you want to place your trust in the guards assigned to her, it isn't easy. You put off giving a definite answer on whether or not you'll go for as long as you could manage.

In a way it reminds you of your own academy days, and how you first asked Glynda to go to a similar event. She'd turned you down back then, because of course she did. You'd taken it personally back then, but it hadn't been enough to stop you. Back then, your relationship had been a game of cat and mouse.

Needless to say, being in a situation like this one where you didn't have any chance to avoid those thoughts isn't great. You suppose that it's an academy dance- the odds are that the punch bowl might end up being spiked. If worst came to worst, then you would be sure to have a flask on you.

The number of times that you and Qrow's coping mechanisms feel a little too close for comfort is astronomical.

But the night of the dance eventually comes around, and you begrudgingly decide to attend. At the very least, it's a chance to make a good impression. It also won't be anything like the high society balls that you've been to so many times in Atlas. At least this time you won't rely on fine wine to get you through conversations with people looking to get something out of you.

Instead, you just have to stay out of the way and relax.

It's a night off, at the very least.

When you arrive there, it's no surprise that Glynda is there. You're tempted to stay off to the side and stick to the walls, despite everything. You are there as little more than a chaperone, but you know your students. They won't fall out of line. That wasn't to say that the students from the other three academies would do the same.

But you could always rely on your own students. You're proud of them. They'll all grow into fine hunters one day. Even Team FNKI, untraditional as they were, would be great hunters.

Glynda is there with Ozpin. You do your best to ignore the fact that she's there. It would be better if she wasn't, but you also couldn't justifiably think she'd be absent. She's a vice headmistress. If this dance was back at Atlas Academy, you know that your Vice Headmistress would be attending as well.

No amount of ignoring Glynda's presence is enough.

She's sticking to the walls as well, but you're sure you've seen the poor woman clean at least twenty spilled drinks over the course of the night. That's not to mention the number of broken heels and torn streamers. That was Glynda though- always putting things back together.

For better or for worse, you knew.

She sticks close to Ozpin for the most part. You know the two of them wouldn't be there on a date or anything like that, and it's some relief, you suppose. It's less salt in an old wound.

It takes two or three spiked drinks before you finally convince yourself to go over and just talk to Glynda again. You're already expecting bitter rejection. It's the only thing you can expect from Glynda anymore.

Of course, you deserve it. That doesn't make it hurt any less.

You ask her to dance, and she seems to begrudgingly accept your invitation. You don't try to pull her in close, or wrap your arms around her. Still, there's muscle memory. You remember the exact curves of her waist under your hands. You remember her scent, the softness of her lips. You remember the sound of her voice when she smiled at you.

So many memories, and you're sure that you won't be able to relive them.

When you two draw closer over the course of the dance, it's her that initiates it. As much as you would like to do that for yourself, you can't bring yourself to it. It's wrong, not proper of a military man- or any man, for that matter. Not without permission.

But she sets a careful hand on your right hand. Somehow, that alone is able to set off nerves in the pit of your stomach. You're reminded of the cruel reality of the situation. She can surely feel the metal through your clothing. She surely remembers how you looked with your body torn apart.

You're afraid that she'll say something.

But she doesn't.

You only get two dances in before you decide that you want to rest. Pain takes over your side, and you need to leave. Glynda doesn't question it too much. You and her say some quiet goodbyes.

You're about halfway to your ship when a report from the CCT Tower pulls you away from rest.

Work always comes before pleasure.

You're reminded, just for a moment, why it hadn't worked out.

* * *

You're wandering the Beacon grounds. It's late, your body is aching, and rest feels impossible. You hadn't even been able to relax enough to get out of uniform. Almost as soon as your duties for the night had been dealt with, you'd given up on resting. Instead, you'd decided to wander Beacon Academy's grounds.

You like it there. You like how people leave you alone while you're there.

It's a rare luxury to be able to relax back in Atlas. Being able to go for a walk is almost unheard of.

It's too high risk, they say, as though you couldn't defend yourself if you needed to. People don't realize that you carry at least one gun on you at all times.

They don't realize how strong you are.

It takes a lot to kill you, it turned out.

But it's nights like this one that you feel the weakest, you think as you stare out at the city of Vale. You're in pain, it's flaring up through old scars rather than as a phantom pain that never relents. You try not to let it show, because you are from Atlas and that is how you are meant to act.

For now, you just want to watch the city and the ships that hung over it.

Glynda finds you on her late patrol.

The first thing that she does once the two of you are there is tease you. You know why- you should have been in bed hours ago, but instead you are just staring at the city and the ships that floated above it. _Your_ ships.

The jab about you examining the city like it's a claim is the one that sticks in the back of your head the most.

You know it isn't the case, and when she teases you about it, you couldn't deny that it stings, at least a little bit.

But that was Glynda. She's as abrasive as she is sweet. You give an excuse for what you're doing there, because that's so much easier than you playing along with her suggestion.

She doesn't believe you. Nobody who knows you that well would. You don't do go out late like this over a few pains.

But when you two start to talk, it feels like a temporary truce of sorts. You aren't arguing in Ozpin's office over matters of security. Instead, you're a pair of old friends, sharing a quiet moment together. She offers comfort that you wouldn't have been able to hope for otherwise.

When you raise your concerns regarding the situation in Vale and Ozpin, Glynda is there to tell you that _you're_ part of the problem. You don't trust enough, you need to rely on Ozpin's experience that he didn't share.

It's not a comfort, really. You already knew that you didn't trust easily- that was one of those things that had always clung to you. Too many bad things had happened for you to be able to relax so easily.

But you find some comfort in Glynda, under her touch. It's not enough, but it's something.

It's more than you could have ever hoped for.

* * *

When you contact the authorities of Vale following the Breach, you want to stop yourself every step along the way. Nothing was going to be able to make things feel better for you.

After all, you were backstabbing a _friend._

It was for the greater good. You had to repeat those words to yourself as a mantra, because that was the only way that you could avoid the guilt.

Ozpin wasn't doing enough.

You had an army.

You would _act_.

When Glynda finds out what you've done, she comes after you with bared teeth and that damned whip at her side. You don't know how long the two of you argue about the entire affair. To you, it was a way to keep people safe.

To Glynda, it was you overplaying your hand. It was an effort for _power_. It was you looking to get Ozpin thrown out for your own gain.

She calls you a lot of names that night. Some are ones that are surprisingly familiar.

"Dictatorial" is the one that sticks in the back of your head the most. You know that it's your own fault that it's there and feeling so powerful in your head. After all, power like yours was _unprecedented._

Hearing it back in Atlas was always one thing.

Somehow hearing it from Glynda is something else.

It's not enough to burn you so badly that you'll leave though.

You remind her that to most people, things were to continue as normal.

She could hide things from people easily enough. She could protect people from the reality of what was happening all that she needed.

You expect that the future meetings between Ozpin's inner circle will be much more strained than they had been before.

It's your own fault.

It's for the greater good.

As is the Atlesian way, you don't let your feelings show.

* * *

Things got worse.

Of course, as always, things got worse.

Namely, Qrow decided to show up unannounced and without a word to say that he was even _alive_. When you told him that you'd thought that he'd been compromised, you had _meant_ it. Going dark in the field for so long, in a battle like the one that you were so silently fighting was just trouble.

How he expected contact to be maintained in such a situation, you'll never understand. You didn't want to risk secrets ending up in the hands of the enemy.

And to think, Qrow would come bearing news that you already knew.

He'd get angry at you.

Somehow, with everything considered, you can't even focus on him that much the day that he arrives there in Vale. He's only one part of the problem that you have to address.

You have to worry about Specialist Winter Schnee, one of your favorite former students. You have to worry about how your reputation had just been seemingly intentionally harmed on Qrow's part.

When you sent Winter away, it's only too obvious that you'd once again find yourself at odds with the others in the room.

They all hate you.

Qrow, for cutting contact the way that you had.

Ozpin, for taking him out of power over the festival that he was supposed to be hosting.

Glynda, for more things that you want to even begin to think about.

They don't like your explanations. They won't even listen to you, really. They think that you're just trying to go about things in a heavy handed way, not that their methods _aren't working_.

You wish Glynda wasn't part of the aggression, but you couldn't expect for her to turn her back from Ozpin. Not after so many years. She definitely wouldn't do it for you.

Another meeting ends, and you have to drag yourself back to your ship. You're beaten down and frustrated, and you have to reprimand one of your specialists.

Just another day in your life, it seemed.

For that night, you let it show. You drown your anger in a bottle.

After that, you're back to being Atlas itself. Unwavering and unshaken.

People never find out what's going on in your head.

* * *

Today was the day that you were supposed to meet Pyrrha Nikos.

How you ended up in Glynda's bed the night before is a question that's answered entirely too easily by nothing more than a few bottles of fine whiskey and a date. That wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't for the fact that you hadn't woken up hungover.

That wouldn't have been so bad if you weren't also running late to the meeting.

That wouldn't have been so bad if it wasn't for the fact that Glynda was also running late.

You two ended up leaving her quarters at the same time, and rushing towards Beacon Tower because both of you needed to at least make an effort to be on time. Deep down, there's a part of your ego at stake.

For instance, the thought of being beaten by Qrow in anything was a prospect you just weren't fond of at all. You don't dislike him, but he feels like a rival more than anything else.

You and Glynda ended up in the elevator together. Your heart pounded against your chest. You wished that you'd had time for some coffee that morning, but also don't think that you would have been able to actually have one. There's something about the situation that won't leave you alone though. It nags in the back of your mind, constantly telling you that you could have done better.

So when you're crammed in the elevator with Glynda and hoping that you aren't going to end up being slowed down, distractions are a _very_ bad thing. The night before is still too fresh on your mind.

You know what she looks like under that outfit of hers that she liked to wear so much. You know all of the points that you can lean in and unfasten her shirt. You watched her as she put her hair up into a bun that morning. The memory of her curves and pale skin under your hands is so fresh that you nearly have to ball your hands into fists to keep from acting on it.

You're sure there are hickeys on her throat that were still yet to heal.

It doesn't matter.

The tension breaks explosively.

You find yourself crushed against the wall under Glynda's grip, strong as it was. She kisses you like it's the only thing that was keeping her alive. You can't breathe, but you return the kisses. You arms wrap around her waist and you pull her in close.

The kiss doesn't break.

You know that both of you are trying to count down the amount of time that you have to be together as you are. You both listen for the small noise that tells you that the that the elevator has brought you another level higher.

She lets you reach up to tug at her hair, and you're sure that she'd be able to readjust it with a wave of her whip in a second. The kiss only deepens.

In that perfect moment, she is like poison. She's addictive, and you're a dying man looking for the next hit in exchange for your life.

Naturally, it has to come to an end. By the time the two of you are leaving the elevator, she's fixed her hair mostly and is trying to get her glasses back into place.

You need a little extra time to get your tie in order.

The way that Ozpin and Qrow both stare at you tell you that they know what you and Glynda had been getting up to. All that you can hope is that the two of you won't end up getting an earful for it later on. The relationship, or lack thereof, between you and Glynda is no secret to Ozpin and Qrow, in addition to most of the other teachers at Vale.

You don't know whether you prefer the conceived perpetual bachelorship that people see in Atlas over that.

Thankfully, comments are held for later. First, you have to reveal the secrets of the world to a child that doesn't deserve to hear any of it.

Pyrrha takes it surprisingly well, and that's something that you're glad for.

The other thing that you're glad for is the fact that the others don't push back against you when Pyrrha is there. Even when discussing some of the more unsavory implications of the work you've done, they don't fight back against you.

It might be the nicest thing that they've done for you since you'd arrived in Vale.

* * *

The Vytal Festival progresses, and you're finding yourself feeling surprisingly relaxed throughout the whole thing. There have been a few people removed from the premises, but it was always run of the mill in nature. Public drunkenness (you're surprised Qrow hasn't been picked out for this offense,) hecklers, and the occasional pickpocket.

Nothing particularly alarming.

That's not to say that you aren't busy, but you're able to find plenty of time to calm down. Glynda will even watch matches with you when you aren't concerned with watching your own students fight.

It was obvious that things were going to have to fall apart at some point.

The first report that there was a student seeing things out in the field that weren't there was alarming. In a way, it hurls you back into a terrible place that you can't bear to be.

When you tell Glynda, she offers her comfort. She sits up with you at night and walks through the academy grounds when you have time.

One of her students becomes a victim to that problem, and it's up to you to confront her.

Yang Xiao Long has a lot of her father and uncle in her, you think. When you talk to Glynda, Ozpin, Port, and Oobleck about the girl they all state their confidence that she wouldn't do something like what she'd done. Nobody's more vehemently defensive than Qrow.

But he's biased, you have to remind yourself.

Testimonials aren't enough to keep the girl from seeing some sort of punishment for the time being. The world is sure that they know what they saw.

You can't do anything to convince them that they saw something different, regardless of what the truth is.

Glynda's supportive towards you though. She meets you as soon as you're off duty and the two of you are able to enjoy something to eat together, if only for a little while. The relaxation is nice, while it lasts.

It falls apart again.

This time, it falls apart so much more violently and so much more terrifyingly.

This time, the world begins to end.

It all starts with one of your students- no, a _projec_ t you have to remind yourself. Penny Polendina had an aura, but she was a robot. Not flesh and blood, not...

You can't dwell on her. You don't have the time, when there are Grimm coming into Vale in waves.

You don't get a chance to say anything to any of your colleagues. All that you're able to do is offer an explanation to Ozpin over a scroll call, but you never get a chance to give it.

After that, you turn your mind off to everything that's going wrong.

It's a survival instinct at that point.

As is the Atlesian way, you don't let your pain show because to do so would be actively detrimental. Panic was only allowed for that one moment.

* * *

The next time you see Glynda again, it's in the streets of Vale, and you are terrified. You've just torn your way out of your own ship, and your command ship is still under someone else's control.

Your heart beats against your chest too hard.

The secret, the truth about your broken body, has been let out.

When Glynda and Qrow see you, neither of them comment on it. That's all that you could hope for. You've never thought that you would find any sort of temporary salvation under Glynda's hand.

Not like this.

Not when you were sure just seconds before that you were about to be cut down in halves again. The only difference is that this time, it would have happened because of a friend rather than an enemy.

You don't get to spend time with either of them.

Almost as immediately as your ship crashed to the ground, you had to leave to check on military matters.

When you walk away from your friends, it's looking back over at Qrow and Glynda over your shoulder and silently praying to every god that will listen that your friends will make it out of this in one piece.

You can't convince yourself that anyone listens.

* * *

Ozpin is dead. Pyrrha Nikos is also dead.

You get the news alongside the others. It's too much.

You aren't given time to mourn. The priorities that you've been given dictate that you must be preparing to leave Vale as soon as possible.

There's nothing more that you would have liked more than to have time to just try to calm down and comprehend everything that has happened.

The news makes being around the others harder than ever.

* * *

You last kiss cannot be any different than your first.

It's rough, forceful, and most of all, it is desperate. It crushes you and leaves you unable to breathe despite the chaos of the falling city around you. It's a silent plea that one day you will meet again, and that one day the world will be fixed.

Neither of you want to pull away. You know one day you have to, because it's better that you don't drown together. Apart, the two of you can float and make your ways to safety. She'll stay, oh she'll stay. She'll stay, fight, and toil until there's none of her left.

You'll have to go home to a kingdom that doesn't want you. You'll have to go home to a kingdom to atone for your sins, where you will scream to ears that won't listen that you're innocent of the whole thing.

When you and her pull away from each other, you know there are tears in your eyes. There are tears in her eyes too.

It doesn't matter.

You have no choice but to leave.

She has no choice but to stay.

You step away from her on the dock, and watch the moonlight's glint on her hair as your ship pulls away to bring you back home.


End file.
